


/criminal

by Pearly_Pornography



Category: Eminem (Musician), Project Shady
Genre: Assault, Gen, High School, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Ken is a creeper, Misogyny, Murder, Recreational Drug Use, Slurs, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-09-17 06:29:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16969443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Pornography/pseuds/Pearly_Pornography
Summary: Of course the new kid was another delinquent. With a buzzcut. He sure did look like a skinhead. And who the hell names themselves something as dweeby as 'Slim Shady', anyway?Whatever. Ken remarked, internally, that he was built like an angel.





	/criminal

**Author's Note:**

> idk where in the timeline this takes place, consider it an AU
> 
> also blah blah blah slim shady isnt real this is not RPF fiction i do not condone the thing that is happening in here done bye

"Now everybody, this is Matthew." Ms. Whatever was too preoccupied with, presumably, a mug full of booze and coffee. "Uh, introduce yourself."

"I'm  _Slim Shady_. And I'm gonna kick your ass."

"Sure, uh..." Ms. Whosey-ma-whatzit looked around for a bit before wrinkling her nose. She'd backed herself into a corner, now the only seats left were next to Ken Kaniff from Connecticut. "Whatever, go sit in front of Ken."

Perfect.

Of course the new kid was another delinquent. With a buzzcut. He sure did look like a skinhead. And who the hell names themselves something as dweeby as 'Slim Shady', anyway?

Whatever. Ken remarked, internally, that he was built like an angel.

Milk-white skin. A light dusting of translucent freckles, ones so light you could barely even notice. Small shoulders, soft thighs that hung loose in his oversized basketball shorts. He walked with a bit of a hunch to his shoulders. From the side, Ken couldn't even see those seraphic dimples thanks to his stupid hoodie. Man did he wanna peel that thing off. Then his shirt. Then shove a trembling, sweaty hand into the little fucker's shorts and  _feel him_.

"What're you lookin' at."

"Enh," Ken blinked. "just sizing you up. Everyone does it."

"...Why, you wanna fight?"

"Not really."

"You sound like a fuckin' pack a day smoker, Kurt."

"Ken."

"Whatever."

The back of Slim's neck was as smooth as porcelain. Ken wanted to choke him to the ground and fuck him until he was as docile as a little mouse, oh he was beautiful. More beautiful than Ken had ever imagined in his wildest dreams. And that was the most wonderful thing about having a mind, that Slim didn't even know what Ken was saying and thinking.

They all stayed in one classroom for school, the same way elementary schoolers did. Their school was on a tight budget. Cared less about teaching children and more about making money. Which meant Ken got to stare into the plane of Slim's neck for hours without moving even an inch. He was probably as tight as the throat of a snake, heterosexual-identifying and with untouched territory resting near his backside. He'd be nervous. In the way that all boys are. That  _don't tell anyone_ kind of way, where they feigned anger to hide sexual arousal towards their fellow man. Ken had seen it before in his own peers. The ones he'd fucked. The ones he'd been fucked by.

Lunch hours were little better than releasing one hundred-something hormonal teenagers and telling them to kill each other. The cafeteria was simply a WWE arena for minors to pummel one another. They'd gotten bored of beating Ken long ago. 'The gay kid'. It got boring once they found out Ken kinda liked it.

Ken never bought whatever trash food they offered. He'd just bring his own. His father never really cared much for him, so Ken had taught himself to make food, just little things. Sandwiches and whatnot. Generally he baked his own birthday cake and bought his own presents, then gave them to himself like some kind of delusional mental patient. Even with an A+ in history, Mr. Kaniff would never be proud of his son. Not when he was caught drilling holes through the walls in the men's room to peer in.

He was brought from his thoughts, and his ham-and-cheese sandwich by a shout. A few people had crowded around towards the center of the lunchroom. Ken, being the busybody he was, had to go see for himself.

Some football jock, one he'd never banged and therefore never bothered to remember, had gotten it good. His arm was sliced clean open. Everyone was yelling and swearing. Slim was on the other end, sitting on the floor with a black eye and a switchblade in one hand. The knife was stained with fresh blood, and Slim stared like a deer in the headlights. Like he didn't know where he was, or how he got here.

"This sonuvabitch stabbed me!"

"You were gettin' way too close, pal." Slim closed the knife and shoved it in his pocket. "'s how we do it in Amityville."

"Get fucked. I didn't even do anything." The meathead was walked away by a few of his friends, but not before shouting back, "Psycho!" Slim blankly stood up from the floor, dusting himself off and cracking his spine. Everyone got bored immediately and shuffled away. But Ken still stood there, and Slim locked eyes with him.

"What, man, you lookin' for somethin'? Beat it."

"Wow." Ken drew his hands behind his back. "Why'd ya do that."

"I wanted a fuckin' dollar to buy some food, you think my mom sends me out with money? She can't even send herself out the house with money."

"You can have a half'a my sandwich, big guy."

"Don't call me that." Slim wrinkled his nose. "And I don't take handouts, I'm not a homeless person."

"Well clearly you take handouts without asking."

"Shut up, you want me to slit your throat?"

"Offer stands."

"...Fine. Hurry it up before I change my mind and don't try any shit."

"You like them with the crusts, or--"

"I don't  _care!"_

Ken shrugged, giving Slim the other triangular half of his sandwich. Slim grunted, biting into it. "So what's your deal."

"Hmn?"

"I said  _what_ is your  _deal_."

"Well, I'm Ken Kaniff from Connecticut."

"Don't gimme that shit, man. Everyone here is either a criminal, a druggie or a criminal druggie. I been here less'n a day and I can tell. You wouldn't be goin' to this fuckin' crappy Detroit school 'less you were a baby rapist or some shit. What's your  _deal_ , Kaniff."

"Ah." Ken redirected his gaze. "Well, I had sex with a teacher at my last school, among  _other things_."

"Was she hot?"

"A guy."

"'scuse me?"

"It was a guy. I prefer men."

"Oh... oh Jesus, have you been trying to get in my pants? You fuckin' homo!"

" _Truuuust_ me, Slim. I'm the most honest guy here. Half of these dudes? They're faggots. I'm the only one who will tell you first."

"Oh really? Like which ones?"

"One of the people with that guy you stabbed. His name is Justin. We fucked last year in the janitor's closet."

"...Fine. I'll trust you.  _At arm's length_. I ain't no fag."

"That's fine. Can't change who a person's attracted to."

"On the contrary. I got a dick so bomb it even made a dyke my bitch."

"Huh. Maybe you did." Ken pressed a cheek into his hand, as they both finally sat down somewhere. "So what's  _your_ 'deal' then."

"Wuh? Shit, I've been expelled from every other school in the area." Slim clicked his tongue. "Last time, I think it was... This girl I met, her name was Crystal, but with a 'K'. She was a real fuckin' cunt! She said, no way Shady, I ain't gonna go out with you! You're a psycho! So I did what any man would do and sent her ass to the ER. Her dad, though, he was like... pals with the principal or some shit, he always is. And he was pissed. So he said, 'that Shady kid better get the fuck away from my daughter!', and I got the boot."

"Wow." Ken grinned. "She must've really changed her mind then, huh."

"Probably. All girls want is to be treated like shit. Either they wanna be treated like shit or they wanna treat others like shit. But the latter type, you only find 'em at those BDSM clubs whipping fat guys and shit." Slim pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, setting it ablaze with a black, old lighter. "Most of 'em, as long as you don't rape 'em or kill 'em they're all just horny to be degraded. They act like they ain't. Best way to get a girl is to call her a hoe when you first meet. She'll act mad, but she'll come back two days later beggin' to hop on your dick. You can say whatever you want. Do whatever you want. The bitch is yours."

"I wish I could make use of your in-depth advice, Slim. You seem like a smart dude."

"Don't fuckin' flirt with me you fa--"

"Learn to take a compliment."

Then lunch ended and the two walked back to class. Slim moved his seat directly to Ken's left, and Ms. Who-gives-a-damn didn't seem to care. They silently passed notes back and forth that consisted entirely of poorly-drawn dicks and butts. The highest brow of humor. So high, it was less of a brow and more of a hairline. Then they parted ways for the day at the end of class, Ken was picked up by his father and Slim walked home.

"I met the most amazing guy today, dad."

His father grunted from the driver's seat. "His name was Matthew, but he goes by Slim Shady. He's the coolest." Another grunt. "We banged."

" _Jesus Christ_ , Ken! What did I say about--"

"We didn't actually, I just wanted you to stop ignoring me." Ken's father squinted, waiting for a stoplight to smack Ken hard across the mouth. The rest of the drive was quiet. His dad would get it if he'd ever seen Slim in real life. He really was a fallen angel. Ken returned home, quickly did his homework, and masturbated for hours before falling asleep.

* * *

"Thanks for inviting me over, Slim."

They'd only known each other for a week. But it was obvious, so obvious, that Slim was terminally lonely. Living alone in a garbage apartment with only his mother. "I gotta say, your doorman was really just... not there."

"He doesn't get paid enough to actually work." Slim reached into a paper bag. "Want a drink?"

"Sure." Pulling out a bottle of tequila, Slim gnawed the cap off with his teeth. "But you can have most of it."

"You'd better not try and fuck me while I'm drunk."

"I won't." Deep down, Ken really had considered just raping Slim while he was drunk and making a run for it. But this was the first friend he could ever remember having in school, and he didn't want to lose it over petty sexual activity. Really he just hoped that, in time, Slim would come around and let Ken fuck him just once, just once to anxiously let Ken savor that sweet ass, no doubt untouched by anyone before.

"Alright..." Slim took a drink. "If we run out, there's more in mom's liquor cabinet."

"Wow." Ken took the bottle and sipped a little from it. "Tastes like piss."

"Who cares?"

"...Where's your dad?"

"Huh? He's out. Probably fucking someone."

"Not your mom?"

"Hell no, her puss had to pass a few babies."

"You have siblings?"

"Half-siblings. None of 'em live here. They're all with their dads. But mine, he stuck around with my crazy bitch mom." Slim had already halved the contents of the bottle. "Because she was an easy fuck, right? But he forgot to wrap it and made me. And he didn't wanna take it to no court or whatever."

"Damn. Would your dad fuck me?"

"Probably." Slim wrinkled his nose. "I don't think I'd be comfortable with that." They were both silent for a moment. "Say, Ken. What's the youngest age person you'd fuck?"

"Me? I dunno, what about you?"

"Fourteen."

"You're sixteen, that's not much of a difference."

"Yeah? Kids are gross."

"...Four."

"Four what."

"That's the youngest I'd fuck." Slim balked, swallowing another mouthful of tequila.

" _Four_."

"Yeah. Maybe five."

"'s basically an infant, you psycho."

"I know." Ken paused. "I like it. I like being the first one in. It makes me feel special."

"Whatever, man. I mean- we're all terrible people here. So I can't really judge you. I raped a girl once."

"How was it."

"Fine, I guess. She was older than me. I beat her head in with a rock. She died."

"You sure do live an interesting life."

"I mean- I guess I didn't think it was that big a deal. But she got all up on this shit about callin' the cops. I freaked out a little, man. That was like... a year ago. Two years ago." Slim threw the empty bottle at the wall. It crashed loudly. "...I mean. I didn't fuck her until she was dead. I dunno why. You ever scrape your own cum out of a dead chick with your finger? It's horrible."

"Is that rape?"

"If they can't say yes legally it's rape. So yeah." Slim crossed one leg over the other. "Don't feel very good about it."

"I won't judge you. We're all terrible, right?"

"...It was cold. Like, I got to feel it. When all the warmth left her body and shit. It was cold."

"Did it feel good?"

"I don't know."

They were both quiet. Slim was looking redder by the minute. "But it felt good to kill her. Like, having control over something, even just some stupid ugly whore. It was... it felt good. It's like, I ain't got nothin' to call mine but a dead body, but it's mine. I made that happen."

"Was the murder better than the sex?"

"Oh. Absolutely."

"I wouldn't kill anybody after screwing them unless I thought they'd tell." Ken pressed his face into his hands. "Surprisingly, nobody ever does."

"Well, duh, they don't wanna go around tellin' everyone they're a faggot like you. That ain't knowledge for the public."

"If you were, would you tell anybody?"

"Shit." Slim leaned back, grunting a bit. "I'd kill myself first."

* * *

 

Ken never got invited to parties. Slim didn't either. He really did believe in showing up uninvited with enough molly in his pocket to convince whoever was running the event. It was a solid few months into their friendship. And Ken got to do everything with Slim. They really were best friends, and it was beautiful, and horrible. They were a beautiful, horrible pair of lecherous criminals, stalking the streets of Detroit at night in search of trouble. Ken's father loathed Slim, and Slim's mother loathed Ken, so it all worked out.

The two showed up at the weekly function with a fistful of pills as their entry fee. Another apartment that just barely fit in all the people who were invited. Slim had to grab onto Ken's wrist so he wouldn't get lost, and it sent fire to Ken's loins that no amount of illegal child porn could produce.

He was absolutely mad for Slim. It was burning him from the inside.

The two managed to shuffle over to the array of drinks. A beer keg was involved, which was quite impressive. Normally it was all bottles. Bottles smashed all over the floors and walls and inside of people's unmentionables under the impression that it'd fit. A keg seemed much more sanitary, though bottles were still an option in case it emptied. Slim filled two red solo cups with the little hose, passing one to Ken.

"I gave you a little less 'cause your dad's a hardass."

"Thanks." Ken took a sip. He didn't really like beer. He wasn't sure if anyone did. They all just did it to get fucked up and forget everything for a few hours. By the word of God, there was probably a million things Ken Kaniff would want to forget. Slim was shoving the bottles in his jacket so he wouldn't have to return for refills.

The building had a fire escape that was unoccupied, most likely due to the cold weather. Slim decided to sit in it, granting Ken the right to sit beside him. They sat two hands lengths away from one another. Slim pulled his jacket tight over his body, though first removing the chilled beers from the inner pocket and setting them down on the grated floor. Ken's lips touched the corner of the cup, and left a mark of his chapstick on its rim. He wondered if he could get away with it, when Slim wasn't looking, if he could get away with pouring Slim's beer into his cup and switching them so Slim could indirectly kiss him.

That would be stupid, though.

Slim always had an eye on him. Even though they'd been friends for months, he was still mistrusting, and of only one thing. Ken's sexuality. And were Ken's intentions pure, he'd be a might offended, but it was even more of a gut punch knowing that Slim was right about him. Always on edge, unless he was drunk.

For the fifth time this week, Ken considered a roofie or something. That would be wrong though. For any old stranger he'd do it, but not to Slim.

"Man, this beer sucks." Slim wrinkled his nose. "Whatever." He proceeded to chug the remainder of what was in the cup before throwing it over the side of the fire escape. Ken turned his head a bit to see it fall down, but where it landed, he had no idea. "This is why I stick with the processed shit."

"Fair enough."

An hour and several beers later, Slim was sufficiently plastered and still going for more. Somehow Ken had never seen him like this. Eyes glazed, fingers twitching. He must've taken one of those pills before they both showed up. Slim on ecstasy really turned Ken on, he'd probably be even easier, easy enough for queer Ken Kaniff to slip inside. Slim didn't focus his eyes on anything as he stared through the little door they'd come out of. "Are you on drugs, Slim."

"Hell yeah."

"Your mom's gonna kill me..."

"You think she gives three quarters of a piss? Dude..." Slim got close, real close. "She doesn't."

"This is just a lot for me right now, I think."

"You know what she let my dad do? When I was a little fucker? Like this tall..." Slim made a nonspecific gesture. "You know what she let him do?"

"Uh... What."

"He  _fucked_ me, Ken."

Ken's mind went blank for a moment, trying to register what he was just told. The information relayed to him. Slim's dad? The horny one? Yeah, he fucked... fucked Slim? When he was a  _kid_? Slim, little Slim fucked by his dad. "A lot. Repeatedly. And it was terrible. And you know what she said, when she saw li'l Slim wasn't eating, she was like, 'what the fuck's wrong with this kid, he's so annoying'. I'm fuckin' burnt out, man. She doesn't... Ugh."

"He's, he what?"

"I was a little shit. Like nine, and his whole fuckin' girth or whatever it took up all that space. I think I almost died. I woke up in bed and I barfed all over myself. I was screaming. It was all coming out of my nose and I was screaming, right?"

Ken felt a stirring in multiple parts of himself. Dropping one leg over the other, he attempted to will away the erection he had.

"That's terrible."

"You wouldn't think so. You'd probably like it, but me? I'm normal. I got in trouble once, I stole a little bag of chips from a store and my mom whooped me real good. She spanked my ass so hard I'm pretty sure I still sit wrong, it was like I was a hot broad in a BDSM porno. But shit, I wasn't sorry. She was gonna have to make me sorry, so she called in dad and said, 'fuck his brains out, if'n any's left in his head'."

"I'm not sure what to do with this information." The throbbing in Ken's loins was indescribable. "I'm sorry, I mean. Nobody wants to get molested. I don't wanna get molested. If I really wanted to bang my dad I'd have consented to it first." And rest assured, Ken's father was one of the few men Ken had no interest in.

"I wish I had your dad."

"Enh." Ken took a sip from his cup, still only half-empty. "He's not that great."

"Better'n one who fucks his own son's asshole, you know it."

The anger in Ken's brain finally overpowered the lust, and he managed to will his boner back into submission while Slim was still rambling about his mommy and daddy. Frankly, Ken didn't believe it was remotely fair, regardless of how sexy it was. Why did Slim's dad get in before he did? Ken thought Slim was virginal, but he'd been beaten to the punch by that old fucker! His parents. His goddamn father had been the one who got to feel Slim's insides first.

Ken took a sip of beer to dull the rage.

"Makes you wonder why these kinds of people have kids."

"What, you sayin' I should've been not born?"

"No. Just feel like your parents should've not had a kid if they were gonna be such shit about it, you know?"

"...I guess." Slim stared into the sky, a sky polluted by all the smokestacks that rose their fists above the city in a communist salute. "Sometimes I wish I ain't been born neither. It's like sometimes I'm on top of the world and shit and other times I'm at the fuckin' bottom, the lowest, right?"

"I think that's called bipolar disorder."

"Shiiiit. As if my brain ain't already doin' sex with itself enough."

Slim got all sorts of close, practically draped over him, brain liquefying thanks to all that molly. Ken was instilled with power.

"I'll kill that bastard."

"Sure you will."

He meant it.

* * *

 

Ken spent two weeks convincing his father to go on a date with Miss Momma Shady. His father had been single for years. "You'd oughtta get back in that ocean," Ken told him. "it'll do you some good. Maybe you'll even get another son." That seemed to convince him, and Slim's mother was more than enthused. Hatred of Ken aside, she needed some fresh dick in her life. Managing to work out the dates he bought Slim tickets to some local concert, he didn't really pay attention to what it was. May 13th was his day. The Day of Ken.

Or something like that.

Their door was never locked. The lock was broken. ("This is fuckin' Amityville, you don't get a locked door.") He knew Dad Shady was home, 'cause it was a Sunday. He never, ever went out on the Sabbath. He thought it was criminal that his wife went out on the Sabbath, let alone himself. He was filth, but he believed in God nonetheless. So Ken knew he'd be home, no doubt chugging booze until it came dripping out of his nose and out his ears and all. Ken was proud to say he'd never had an alcoholic dad. His mother, maybe, he never knew the woman, but not his father. He rarely even took a glass of wine at family gatherings.

The lights were all off. The only sign of life was Slim's pet cat, who had seemingly been on its deathbed since the day they met. It wheezed in Ken's general direction, chewing on some sort of unidentifiable meat slop. (Slim treated his cat better than himself. Because cats are symbols of unwavering, intelligent purity.)

Ken could hear the TV. Jeopardy was on, with that stupid song playing. It drove Ken fucking mental, all of these trivia shows attempting to prove anyone knew a goddamn thing. As if intelligence had anything to do with just knowing a bunch of bullshit facts about hockey or whatever. Slim's father was piled into a leather chair. An expensive-looking one, sure, but it had seen better days, torn at its edges with the fluff sticking out. It was probably some sort of family heirloom, or gift, because Ken doubted Slim's family could afford a chair of that quality.

He was asleep.

Ken drew his blade. A kitchen knife, not very conspicuous or very interesting. Ken loved knives, the decorated sorts, but to waste them on the blood of this fucking scum was, frankly, an insult to the art of knifemaking. Loathing coursed through his veins.

He slunk through the living room, followed by the stupid fucking cat who wouldn't stop heaving and squealing, just barely quiet enough to be considered acceptable. He curved around the little chair where his prey laid, uncertain of the future, of tomorrow. A tomorrow he would not and could not see. Ken hopped on top of his lap. He could feel that dick through his pants, no doubt it'd punched holes in millions of young women. For a moment he went blind, wanting it inside of him. The cock that had penetrated young Slim Shady, now piercing through Ken's scrawny body, peeking into his stomach. He trembled slightly.

No, he had a job to do. And for once the possibility of anal penetration wouldn't distract him.

Clutching the knife, Ken drove it hard into Mr. Shady's chest. That seemed to wake him up, as he gurgled a mouthful of blood, Ken pulled it back and went in again, and again. It really was like sex! It was just like sex, maybe even better than. Blood trickled onto his body and he buried himself in the sensation, humping into the slowly dying man and orgasming with very little touch at all. By the time he rode it out, the man was dead.

"Hey Ken."

Ken turned fast like a tiger that had just been shot. Slim stood in the doorway, which was illuminated by the hallway lights. "The concert tickets you got sucked. It was some jazz bullshit, so I came home. And  _woooow_."

"Uh, sorry."

"You think I'm mad? I never believed you'd do it. I'm impressed." Slim stared at the corpse, punching it  _hard_ in the head. "Fuck you, dad! Hehe... Ya did good, fairy fuck. Need help getting rid of the body, or what."

"Maybe a little."

They then got together, dragged the corpse unceremoniously to the bathroom and sawed it into two arms, two legs, a head and a torso. It drained gorgeously into the bathtub as Slim took the organs out of the detached torso, and shoveled them into a garbage bag. They managed to fill three trash bags with a man.

"Wanna borrow some clothes, yours are covered in blood, and..." Slim sniffed a bit. "...jizz."

"Yeah, that'd be nice."

"Oh, and one more thing."

Slim drew Ken in close, and they kissed. They fucking kissed, tongue and all. They  _made out_. It was over all too fast. "There's your payment. Thanks." Ken could still taste the cigarette smoke in his mouth. "Ugh. You need to brush your teeth, dog."

"Yeah."

"Are you listening to me?"

"Yeah."

"We have to throw away the-"

"Yeah."

"...Cool."

And the rest was history.

* * *

 

Showing up to school the next day was rough. Ken tried to get a full 8 hours of sleep every night, but it hadn't really been possible. It ended up more like 4 hours. Ken threw his lunch together and chugged some coffee before getting the fuck out of the house, not wanting to know what his father's date with Slim's mom was like. No doubt he'd complain about it later on anyway. He arrived to school on time as always.

Slim showed up an hour late, because really nobody could stop him, and sat down next to Ken, curling up to take a nap. Ken reached over to run a hand through his hair, and Slim smacked it away, peering out from behind his arm.

"Not gay."

"Right."


End file.
